Baby Steps
by Sidoh1
Summary: Kenma's first year of high school isn't easy. Kuroo finds out how he's been coping and wants to be a part of it. [Non-sexual age play - Prequel to Little]


Kenma and Kuroo are 15/16 in this, but there is no underage sexual activity. The age play in this is a non-sexual coping mechanism. Prequel to Little but both can be read individually.

* * *

"Kenma?"

Silence.

Kuroo groans. It's not like he never barges into Kenma's bedroom without knocking, but considering the fact that he's currently holding a tray containing chicken soup, freshly squeezed orange juice and a can of soda (all thrust into his hands by Kenma's mother), it would be pretty damn helpful if Kenma could be bothered to open the door. Kuroo already knows that Kenma isn't going to eat the soup anyway, just like he knows that Kenma isn't sick at all. If he was, he would have told Kuroo; a day of complete silence when he doesn't show up for practice always means the same thing.

He calls out Kenma's name again, but when there's no sign of life, Kuroo loses his patience. Somehow, he manages to push down the doorknob with his elbow and open the door with his butt without spilling anything.

He is greeted by the familiar sight of Kenma lying on his side on the bed, holding his PSP. He's wearing his headphones, which explains why he still isn't aware of Kuroo's presence. The only thing that's different from the usual picture is that there's a stuffed animal tucked under his arm as he plays his game.

Kuroo freezes in place. Not because he's bothered by the sight, but because he isn't sure how Kenma is going to react when he remembers there's a world outside of the bubble of his game and notices him. He briefly contemplates walking back out and telling Kenma's mother that he was asleep, but before he gets the chance to make a decision, Kenma looks up.

Watching Kuroo for a reaction, Kenma slowly pulls off his headphones and sits up. He half-heartedly shoves the stuffed animal under his pillow, apparently realising that it's a bit too late for that. "Even my parents remember to knock," he says while saving his game. He scrunches up his nose as he looks at the soup, making it clear that he's not hungry.

"You didn't hear me. So, you're sick, eh?"

Kenma doesn't reply, probably aware that it's useless to try and bullshit Kuroo about these things. Kuroo knows about his habit of occasionally lying to his parents about being ill whenever he feels too anxious to go to school. It used to be something that only happened a couple of times a year, but lately he's been doing it as often as he can get away with it, and Kuroo has a hunch as to why that is.

"Did one of them say something to you at practice yesterday?"

Kenma shrugs and looks away. Ever since Kuroo nearly punched one of the third years on their team for calling Kenma useless, Kenma won't tell him exactly what happened anymore. He hates it when Kuroo makes a big deal out of these things because it'll attract more attention.

"They're stupid for not seeing how good you are, Kenma. I mean it. Don't give them want they want."

"I want to quit," Kenma says, not for the first time.

Kuroo is sure that one day Kenma will be glad he didn't quit volleyball, but trying to convince him to keep doing something that's clearly making him miserable right now is still painful. "You have something all of them don't. There are a lot of tall guys and a lot of people who can spike a ball, but the way you read people and know exactly how things are going to play out...that's unique, Kenma. Please just hang in there until they're gone." He knows it's easier said than done, especially since Kenma's anxiety gets so bad even when dealing with people who aren't actively being mean to him.

Kenma doesn't respond, so Kuroo changes the subject. "Does that help?" He gestures in the general direction of Kenma's pillow. Part of a long brown ear is sticking out from underneath it, dangling over the side of the mattress.

Kenma won't meet Kuroo's eyes. He's got the familiar, stubborn look on his face that he pulls whenever he decidedly does not want to talk about something. "I've had him since I was little," he finally says when Kuroo doesn't give in and waits, just as determined. "It's not a big deal."

"I didn't say it was. There's no need to be embarrassed."

"I'm not embarrassed." The pink flush on Kenma's cheeks betrays him.

"You are, though."

"I'm fifteen."

"So?" Kuroo lets out a frustrated sigh. "Out of all the things you could be doing to make yourself feel better, I think hugging a plushie is fucking wonderful. Fill up your bed with hundreds if you need to, I don't care."

But he does care. The image of Kenma hugging a stuffed animal to his chest makes him feel oddly warm. It makes him feel even more protective of him somehow, and when Kenma's face splits into a wide yawn, those instincts kick in.

"You didn't sleep last night, did you?"

Kenma shakes his head.

"Come on, go brush your teeth and change into your pyjamas." Kuroo's voice is too gentle for the words to sound like an order, but he still half expects Kenma to ask him why he's telling him what to do.

Kenma just looks at him with slightly widened eyes, considering him for a moment as if he understands a significance behind Kuroo's words that he himself hasn't even discovered yet. He nods slowly. "Okay."

Kenma pulls his pyjamas and a change of underwear out of a drawer and leaves his room. Kuroo is left sitting on the bed, alone with his thoughts and the overwhelming urge to follow Kenma and help him change into his pyjamas—and not in the way teenage boys normally imagine undressing their boyfriend (although Kuroo is hardly a saint when it comes to those kinds of thoughts, either). Part of him feels like this should concern him, but he finds that he can't be bothered. Considering he tied Kenma's shoelaces just the other day because they were about to be late for practice, it really isn't _that_ odd. Taking care of Kenma has become almost a second nature to him by now.

He pulls the stuffed animal out from underneath the pillow. The cheerful, somewhat silly face of a brown bunny with enormous floppy ears stares back at him. Kuroo smiles. Just like he suspected, it doesn't have the worn, patchy fur of a toy that accompanied its owner through childhood. It's only just starting to show the slightest signs of wear.

Kenma emerges from the bathroom in pyjamas Kuroo has never seen before, despite their countless sleepovers throughout the years. He's wearing dark blue trousers made of a soft fabric and a T-shirt with some kind of cartoon figure on it.

"Get into bed," Kuroo tells him, getting up to let him through. "You need sleep."

Kenma's gaze drops to the bunny in Kuroo's hands and moves back up to Kuroo's face, observing him. Kuroo considers reassuring Kenma once again, but Kenma is climbing into bed already. There's a silent understanding between the two of them that Kuroo would never make fun of Kenma.

No, that's not entirely true. Kuroo makes fun of Kenma all the time. He just never makes fun of him for things he's genuinely insecure about.

Before Kenma gets the chance to pull the covers over himself, Kuroo is doing it for him. Kenma doesn't protest, sleepily allowing Kuroo to tuck him in. With slow and deliberate movements, Kuroo creates a cocoon of blankets around him. The simple action only increases the warm feeling that never fully left Kuroo's chest since he found Kenma holding his bunny.

Kuroo takes the plush animal and offers it to Kenma, placing it in the space between his underarm and his chest. Kenma freezes for a fraction of a second, and Kuroo feels his heart in his throat, scared that he might have pushed things too far. But then Kenma relaxes and pulls the stuffed animal against his body, his nose buried in its soft fur. He closes his eyes and lets out an exhausted yet content sigh.

When Kenma's breath slowly starts to even out, Kuroo brushes his hair aside for better access before kissing his cheek. "Goodnight Kenma."

Kenma stirs and clutches the stuffed animal tighter. "Bunny too," he mumbles quietly, his voice slurring with sleep. "G'night kiss."

Without question, Kuroo leans in once more to press his lips against the bunny's nose, partially because there is no way he can refuse Kenma like this, and partially because everything is slowly falling into place. Kuroo would have to be dying in a ditch to not stop by and check on Kenma when he's missing from school for a day, and Kenma knows this perfectly well.

"Thanks Kenma," he whispers, not sure if Kenma is awake to hear him. "For letting me know what you need."


End file.
